Vestige
by VillainousVexation
Summary: PreMovie! Larkhill. Valerie's death, and the aftermath. Rating for language, violence, medical squick, and general bad stuff.


'She looked at him in reproach so deep that the last vestige of the terror of death was gone from her eyes. It was as if she had said, and more than if she had sad: 'I have only you to live for.''

- Jack London

V was having a rare moment of peace. Sitting in the corner of his cell, Valerie's letter tenderly held in his hands, he had managed to block out the excruciating pain ripping through his body. This newest injection was turning out to be the worst yet. Batch Five, they had called it.

(five another five fond of five aren't they too bad five is dead now V is here thanks to her thanks to Valerie did they do this to her is this happening to her it is happening to us we are in this together strength through unity hahaha)

Batch Five had, in the past few days, nearly killed him. He had spent hours vomiting blood. His eyes had filmed over with mucous that had temporarily blinded him.

(they didn't like that when i hit the guards idiots i could still hear them smell them they are lucky i was too weak i could have killed them should kill them the scream from the guard let them scream)

His fingernails and toenails had fallen out, which hadn't hurt, but regardless had been an unpleasant sight when his vision had finally returned. His muscles had rebelled, seizuring and spasming until he lost control of all his bodily functions. The disgust in the eyes of the doctors as the guards had hosed him down had annoyed him beyond words.

(stop looking at me i look at you now you are the subject you are the mice in the maze i will not let you out you will die in here i promise you will not get out alive you will not do this again never again i tell you nothing you tell me everything)

But even V had to admit, this time things were different. Even the excruciating pain that made him howl noiselessly felt different. It was almost like his muscles and bones were twisting, changing. Everything was changing.

His senses had sharpened remarkably - a fact he had managed to keep relatively hidden from his doctors. He could hear their conversations down the long hallway, could see in his cell when it was pitch black, which was a pleasant discovery since it allowed him to peruse Valerie's letter at any hour. But even as V focused on separating his mind from the pain in his body, he knew something was different.

Between the pain and his attempts to block it out, V was almost able to ignore something that had been bothering him for hours. It was quiet. But what should have been a pleasant respite from the endless screams and sounds of death wandering the hallways had the opposite effect on V.

(too quiet the calm before the storm where have they gone infrequent visits the screams getting quieter not right just the two of us V and Valerie no peace here do not go gentle no quiet is danger there are thoughts and images in quiet)

His hallway had been far too quiet, that was certain. The doctors had not stopped at any cell but his - his newly heightened senses had told him that much. Apparently his own mutations had managed to distract them from Valerie, if only temporarily,

(fair trade good deal i have not repaid her for what she did for me she does not know she succeeded that she reached me if i must have their eyes to give her some peace so be it)

V pushed himself weakly to his feet, leaning against the wall for a moment to support his shaking frame, and began pacing restlessly, Valerie's letter held protectively in one hand. Despite the agony his body was going through, he seemed to have endless amounts of energy. Now he genuinely could not sleep unless heavily sedated.

Stanton disliked medicating him, since it affected her tests, so he would simply act out - bite a guard, start screaming, refuse to eat, kick at the nurses, etc. - and get a brief rest when whoever was on duty pumped him full of drugs in an attempt to calm him. It was darkly amusing that they had yet to figure out the cause of his recent outbursts.

Then there was Stanton. She was spending hours in his cell, either trying to get him to talk, or simply taking endless notes on his every action. V had reached the point where he was used to having people watch him at all times, but he was careful to make sure she did not truly comprehend the full extent of his senses.

Stanton had caused a freak event in Larkhill: V and the guards were in complete agreement on the fact that she was observing V far too much. Whichever two guards were forced to go into room Five with her would spend hours trying not to fall asleep, unless V wanted to take a nap, in which case they would be lucky enough to have a few moments of raw hysteria.

For V, it was simply exasperating. He wanted to be left alone to adjust to what was going on within him. He was no longer scared, but it was disorienting how quickly things were changing inside his own body.

Were it not for Valerie and the freedom she had given him, he would have killed Stanton or himself a hundred times over. But that was not what he wanted - not yet. What they had done to him and those countless others buried in unmarked mass graves behind Larkhill deserved a far more eloquent retort than the single death of this woman.

Batch Five had effects beyond the physical, and those were the ones that interested V the most. If anything, V considered the physical alterations to be secondary.

As far as Dr. Stanton could tell, V had merely lost his mind. A fascinating form of schizophrenia, but nothing beyond that. Sometimes V was inclined to agree with her. He would snap back to awareness only to find himself making incoherent noises at the wall, or fighting attackers that weren't there.

Usually, however, V was in complete control. He was disinclined to correct Stanton's diagnosis, and sometimes made an effort to confirm her beliefs. Secrets were the only currency he currently had, and he took a childish pleasure in knowing he was hiding things that would have fascinated the doctor. His mind was racing constantly, thoughts streaming past with startling clarity and coherence. Things made much more sense, even in the demented hell that was Larkhill.

(footsteps da da da DUM no not in rhythm today too bad play some music too quiet what i would do to hear one song just one song it's the doctor my dear doctor no and what what who is accompanying the dear lady i should wonder)

Stanton's footstep he recognized without effort. Short and authoritative. Not stopping at any of the other cells. A guard - no, two guards. One who had recently given up attempting to sexually assault V, after the incident with the amputation. The other guard was unfamiliar. And the fat man. The bloody fat man.

(fat man not him not today something is going on but what i am alert more than ever more than anyone but i can only know so much it is like being blind again i am guessing the fat man is gracing the subject with his presence is it already time for another progress report must remember to track the days)

Stanton was not happy. V did not need any special senses to know that. She despised Commander Prothero with an intensity that, under different circumstances, would have greatly impressed her favorite subject. And she was sure the feeling was mutual.

This week had been bad enough without having to beg the Commander to agree to her idea. The new group of subjects was the most pathetic yet. The latest autopsy, while intriguing, was ultimately inconclusive.

And now Prothero and his bloody reports. Stanton was worried he would aggravate Five. The man in room Five was the triumph of her research, the pinnacle of her work. She wasn't quite sure what she had created, but further investigation would provide all the answers. If only Prothero would agree to her request.

V had already returned Valerie's letter to its hiding place in the wall, and was standing shakily near the loo. He liked to be standing on the rare occasions that Prothero stopped by; he knew it irked the man beyond belief that V was taller. And V was learning to take insecurities and fears and hubris and turn them against those who had imprisoned him. V had become a very fast learner.

Prothero, Stanton, and the two guards entered the room. V gave them his most unhinged grin; Prothero looked mildly alarmed, but no one else took any notice. The guards were already bored. As usual whenever she had a visiter to V's cell, Stanton talked about him like he was a piece of furniture. V said nothing, listening to her report and watching them both with large, unreadable eyes.

'As you can see, Commander, his physical response to Batch Five has been extraordinary.' Stanton pointed at V's arms and legs for effect. V remained unmoving as she drew closer, the guards trailing behind her. Prothero fingered the cattle prod hanging from his belt. V disliked the cattle prod. Stanton continued her analysis.

'Even confined to this cell, his muscles have developed well beyond what could be expected. And I believe that with even mild exertion, my theory would be proved.' Prothero's gaze moved gracelessly between discomfort, disgust, and profound boredom.

'How is his mental state?' He tone made it clear that he couldn't care less. V watched him intently. Prothero avoided his eyes.

'Unfortunately, it has deteriorated to a serious level of dementia. We still have yet to ascertain if this was brought on by Batch Five, or his own medical history,' she added quickly.

(wrong doctor no symbols have no history only people and there are no people here just a corpse and four insects buzzing about it)

'Can he talk?' Prothero leaned forward, as if bending down to inspect V, despite the fact that V was noticeably taller. Stanton was looking at V like he was a science project that would either earn her a gold star or burn down the entire school.

'Yes, but much of what he says is nonsensical. He repeats words and phrases, has difficulty formulating sentences, and sometimes just stops midsentence. It's a standard thought disorder, no doubt exacerbated by his confinement.' Stanton paused to look over her notes, although she knew them all by heart. She knew everything about Five.

'His IQ is off the charts. I'm beginning to suspect that the results are warped, because quite frankly he could not be as intelligent as the tests claim. This is another response restricted solely to him - none of the other subjects had psychological responses of such magnitude. This no doubt correlates to his thought disorder. Also, he claims to be unable to remember anything of his time before coming here. It's a pity his state of mind is so damaged - it makes it difficult to accurately analyze him.'

Prothero was picking dirt out from under his nails. V had overheard from the guards that this big man liked dolls. Dolls and drugs.

(we all die from our pleasures don't we prothero)

'And you really think it would be wise to grant it privileges? You've just told me he's a bloody strong lunatic!' V idly noted that Prothero spat when he talked. Judging by the way Stanton wiped her cheek, so did she.

(it it that's right prothero you think you're superior keep thinking that until the minute i prove how wrong you are)

Stanton smiled tenderly at V. But the smile was not for him, or Prothero. It was for what V represented: her research, more cherished than any human being could ever be in her mind.

'Look at him, Commander. He is my greatest success. Our greatest triumph. He is the answer to all our questions.' Her voice had taken on an almost reverent tone. V resisted the urge to let out a bark of laughter. Prothero was staring at Stanton as if he was suddenly unsure exactly who was the lunatic.

'Oh, stop going on, woman. He's the only fucking piece of shit left here. That is the only reason I'm here, and the only interest I have in him,' he snarled. He took a deep breath, smoothing out his uniform. 'And frankly, I'm not in favor of letting your little science project run amuck, especially concerning the food.'

Something he said caught V's attention. His head titled slightly, puzzled.

'Only one, Commander?' he asked as politely as he could. Naturally, Stanton and Prothero totally ignored him.

Stanton did not seem remotely ruffled by his outburst. If anything, she grew calmer in response to his tantrum.

'Commander. I understand your concerns. I really do. But if he continues at this rate of development, imagine what that will do for the reputation of Larkhill, not to mention yourself. Something like this will get considerable attention from the higher-ups, Prothero. Think of that.'

Stanton nearly choked as she flattered the bastard's ego, but she could see it was working. Mention food or prestige to him, and Prothero was relatively easy to manipulate.

'Can you guarantee results?' Prothero demanded severely. Stanton was furious. How could he not see that the results were right before his eyes?

'Yes. You have my word,' she replied.

V had lost track of their conversation; he was stuck on one significant point. Raising his voice slightly, he swallowed his pride and addressed Stanton, trying to keep his scorn from being too obvious.

'Only one?' He held her gaze steadily, encouraged for a moment when she seemed to remember he was there. Stanton, however, blithely ignored his question. The guard beside her picked his nose.

'Five, Commander Prothero is considering letting you work in the vegetable garden. You'd get a bit of fresh air and exercise. A chance to be outside. How would you like that?' Normally, V despised it when Stanton used that tone - the one that clearly implied he was an idiot child. And while on some level he did register what she had just said, he was getting increasingly concerned that his own question was going unanswered.

'Only one? One lyon? One? One?' He caught himself, stopped repeating, horrified by the implications of that one word. Prothero looked at him with alarm, taking a step backwards.

'He's bloody bonkers! And you want him running around?!' If the nerve endings in V's face had been obeying the laws of nature, he would have felt some flecks of spit land on his destroyed cheek. As it was, his eyes never left Stanton's face.

'Only one? One two three four all gone? Four? Four? Gone? Four?' Stanton sighed, abruptly realizing what her patient was babbling about. Still using that coddling, condescending tone, she answered him.

'Yes, Five. All four of the other subjects have been compromised.' Thanks for rubbing it in, she thought spitefully. 'Now,' she said briskly, 'would you like to work in the garden, Five? Five?' V slumped to the floor, staring off into space. (dead dead dead she died she never knew didn't know she saved me not herself they can't hurt her anymore no more) Prothero elbowed the guard nearest him, the one who had just recently learned not to bother with V. He jerked to attention, then glared down at V.

'Answer Dr. Stanton like a good boy now, Five.' V ignored him. He was already trying not to throw up. The guard glanced nervously at Prothero's increasingly reddening face. 'Answer the doctor, shithead!' The guard reached out to strike V with the butt of his gun.

Like a startled rattlesnake, V's arm shot out from its place in his lap and gracefully snapped the guard's arm as if it were a brittle twig. His hand had returned to his lap before the guard realized what had just happened. There was a moment of stunned silence.

(only one trouble now what matters nothing only one dead dead sorry i couldn't save you saved me not you gave me what you needed gave me your life)

'Jesus FUCKING Christ!' yelled Prothero, bolting towards the door. The guard collapsed, screaming hysterically as he clutched his limp arm. Stanton nodded to the second guard, who looked quite green. Swallowing heavily, he called into his radio for backup. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at V, aware that the doctor would die before she let him pull the trigger. It still made him feel better.

Then Stanton addressed V. Through all the screaming and running, he had not even flinched. She spoke to him in a low, soothing tone.

'Now Five, we've talked about these outbursts. They only get you in trouble.'

'Everyone is dead dead dead and you, Doctor, cod rot, don't even know their names,' V answered. He wanted to kill her, wanted to feel the life drain from her at that exact moment. Instead, he sat.

Prothero, having realized the door was not going to open, and having forgot how to get the guards on the other side to open it, and that V wasn't going to move, had stormed back to the doctor's side in an impressive display of machismo.

'Bollocks to this,' he snarled. Prothero pulled out his beloved cattle prod and jammed it into V's stomach. V let him.

(pain pain i know you i can survive you she couldn't she's in a ditch nameless faceless she died alone alone alone remember her i never knew her i loved her i love her my one love she's in a ditch out near the garden under other deformed bodies i love her pain pain yes i can't survive this i can survive i have no choice)

As V writhed on the floor, relatively near the injured guard whose screams by this point had faded to whimpers, Stanton grabbed Prothero's arm.

'Commander! I will not have my subjects molested. You know this effects the results of his tests!' After one last jab at V, Prothero obediently pulled the cattle prod back. Stanton went to the guard, who was still moaning mindlessly. She knew her subject would recover in a few moments.

When V opened his eyes and saw Prothero fiddling with his cattle prod, the young guard holding his gun and looking absolutely terrified, and Stanton looking at the other guard's arm, he let out a long cackle.

'Ah, Rossitter, if I am Five Four Three Two One, you are Zero. The Nothing. No Night.' He winced as the pain from his stomach forced him into the fetal position. Stanton shot Rossitter a sharp look, while he lay there trying to look innocent. Prothero looked confused.

'Um... Well. Rossitter! Go to the hospital wing. And see where those bloody nurses are. And send two more guards.' He grinned at V, impressed with himself.

The young guard helped Rossitter to the door, opening it only long enough to shove his injured comrade out into the hallway. Stanton was reassuring Prothero.

'Commander, you have nothing to worry about. He dislikes being touched; and Rossitter is often rough with him. This is not the norm for him. You'll be quiet now, won't you Five?' She knelt beside him. 'You're not going to hurt me, are you?'

'Not yet,' V replied calmly. Everything was in order. He felt adrenaline racing through his veins, and everything had fallen neatly in place. It all made sense. All the pieces. He slowly pulled himself into the sitting position, and looked up at Prothero.

'Commander, I would like very much to work in the garden. Drag end. I believe I could be of some use.' He struggled to keep his words from falling over each other into nonsense or repetition. Prothero cracked his neck, then through his heavy arms up in the air.

'Sod it!' He turned to Stanton as she rose. 'Your pet gets to be gardener, alright? But I want three fully-armed guards on him at all times.' He glanced at Rossitter's blood on the floor, where the bone had torn through flesh. 'Make it four.' He paused again as the nurse and extra guards appeared, much to the younger guard's relief. 'And if anything, ANYTHING, should go wrong, it will be your fault. Not mine. I will take no blame for this loony.' Haven spoken his piece, he turned sharply and stormed out of the room.

The nurse went to Stanton's side, murmuring about sedatives. V stared at her coldly from his position on the floor. She met his gaze for an instant and burst into tears.

Diana Stanton had a headache. She could hardly believe that Prothero had agreed to her request, or that it had been Five himself who had helped out, after nearly ruining the whole thing. Now she would have to file an accident report for that idiot Rossitter, deal with Five, and somehow get this silly girl to stop sobbing in her ear. She turned to the nurse and snapped, 'Oh Sally! Get a hold of yourself!' The girl stopped, her cheeks flushed red. She didn't look at V again.

'Five, you mustn't upset the Commander like that. I know you think he's a prat. But I dislike having to sedate you.' She waved an alarmingly large needle in his face. 'You know how dramatically these drugs alter my test results.'

'Am I really the only one left? Felt? I reveal.' Stanton sighed heavily. The extra guards had surrounded V in a wide circle. He paid them no notice.

'Yes, as of last night.'

(gone gone goodbye dodge boy farewell wall free five five four i'm so sorry sorry sorry)

'What happened? Thaw append he?' Now Stanton gave him an affectionate sort of smile.

'Don't fret, Five. If anything was going to happen to you, it would have already occurred.' V would not be distracted this time. He needed to know. He knew Valerie better than any person on Earth. He needed to know.

'How did it happen happen? I with odd hand peep?' Stanton paused in her preparation of the needle. His disordered speech had never been this bad. And she simply couldn't understand his sudden fascination with the other subjects. She decided that this wasn't a topic to be pursued.

'Are you pleased with the garden? You talk about roses quite a bit - well, a lot of your sentences include the word, at least. I thought it might increase your physical responses. Of course,' she laughed lightly, 'you won't be growing roses at first. Just some veg. But if you do a proper job, I daresay Prothero might let you have a small flower patch all to yourself.'

'I want to know how V- how number four died,' V said quietly. (valerie valerie valerie you don't know her name she died alone you buried her and marked her and didn't even know her name and she gave me mine but you took mine we are all nameless but we won't be)

'Fixation,' Stanton noted to the young nurse. 'Why do you care, Five? Why now?' V pondered an appropriate way to answer this question.

'One is the loneliest number. Its eon he sleet lion burn me.' Stanton stared at him. He gave her a lopsided grin he wasn't aware had formed on his face, ignoring the sound of his skin crackling. Shrugging for the benefit of the guards and Nurse Sally, who was now covertly peeking at V, she answered his question.

'The subject's skin peeled off, much like yours. But it became infected. Her tongue atrophied, then burst like a blemish. There were additional sets of teeth growing in her throat. The reproductive organs had absorbed back into the body. But ultimately, she choked to death. A pity. I had great hopes for a female counterpart.' V nodded politely.

'You should inject me now. Via leer via reel liar eve.' He grinned at the nurse. 'I've a sudden urge to permanently damage Nurse Sally. Sunray sell.' He took a small, spiteful pleasure in the nurse bursting into fresh tears, and the reassuring feel of the sedative entering his body.

(sleep sleep sleep like the dead Valerie lair eve ail veer lie rave vile era)

They left. Alone again. V awoke several hours later, in a darkness that no longer applied to him.

They'd taken the last of him, and hadn't even bothered to learn her name. No - not the last. An inch remained. Just an inch.

V pressed the letter to his cracked lips. (she's free she didn't break didn't apologize i know i know she's free she won won won won Valerie won it's over and she won and they don't need to know i know she won)

Valerie was probably already forgotten, V mused. He pushed himself against the wall in an attempt to get comfortable. The people outside had forgotten her movies; the monsters here would forget her number.

But he would make them remember.

A garden. He knew gardening. More importantly, he knew chemicals. How he knew was immaterial. A chance for roses. For her. A punishment for what they had done to her. To him. Whatever they took from him, they would not keep. They would not make money from Valerie's blood, or his pain. A tribute and retribution all at once.

V picked up the letter. Touched her last inch. Wished with the charred remains of his soul that she could have known she died loved. When he spoke, his voice was low and clear.

'Valerie, I believe it's time for us to go.'


End file.
